I Guess I've Finally Got a Start.

I know this may sound stupid, and completely out there. I honest to god didn’t really know what to write on Friday. I took a story from my email and just pasted it in place of what this is now. People are going to read this in the end, and it’s sort of embarrassing. I would much rather have they read a story than to read my thoughts that are being put into this. Call it an invasion of privacy, if you will. I’ve never really been one to like having people within a certain range of me. There are few who do manage to get in there though.



Like Amy. Same age as me, five inches taller, and with the intelligence that is pretty much unmatched. She’s homeschooled, so it sort of sucks that I can’t hang out with her as much as I would like to. Usually, she’s with her boyfriend, or has some sort of cold, so I’ve been left alone for the past while.



Amy introduced me a year ago to my friend Morgan. Nickname’s Momo. She’s a sweet little American girl who could easily get into college now even though she’s still got two years left in high school. I write stories with her as well. At times our stories can be adventurous, dark, silly, light and airy, or romantic. I usually play the male character in the story since I have the more boyish mentality. Well, by the way I dress it can probably be stated as obvious. It’s because of Momo that I named my blog ‘Forty-Four and Counting’. Over the past year, I have created forty-four characters, each with a distinct personality and appearance. There’s always another character popping up from time to time, adding onto the list.



The two I use most are Sophie Nightingtide and Byron Brightgale. Both are placed in an apocalyptic future, where the world was more or less destroyed. The cities and towns are nothing but stone and rubble. There is no comfort no matter where you go. Always people are moving, or are trying to rebuild buildings for safe havens. No one must wander without a weapon. Sophie, a thirteen year old girl wanders the remnants of England. She’s got a foul mouth and a superiority complex that can’t be matched no matter who you put her up against. She is violent and crude, but will sometimes have unexpected soft moments. Always they are towards her beloved puppet and follower, Byron. There are extreme limits to his movement and survival, and if any of those limits are breeched, both Byron and Sophie take damages. Byron is the complete opposite of his master. He’s sweet and always thinks of other people, though it gets on Sophie’s nerves. He’s either latched onto her, or inside a large coffin like container he’s kept in. Their story is both tragic and comic. In the end, it’s filled with nothing but the blood of others and twisted imaginings of the mind. Most of the stories I use them for come out as horror because of Sophie’s mentality and past.



Another horror couple would be a set of twins. Eciv and Eutriv. Vice and Virtue backwards. Eutriv and Eciv were both born to a realm where demons were allowed to walk the Earth freely. Meaning there is no way there, no way out. It is not our world that both you and I know. The twins were born of a lesser group of demons, and raised quietly inside their home for fifty years. Eciv became bored. She had longed to be a doctor or sorts, wanting to examine the insides of others. Eutriv liked this idea. Eutriv wanted in on this. They would become doctors together. Now, how to start? Ah, their father kept some fun things under the house, they could use those. With a hooked cleaver for Eciv, and a spiked club for Eutriv, the two took out their mother and father, slicing and beating them until they had spilled a sea onto the floor. Both parents had put up a fight, giving the children the wounds which required the stitches. Not that they cared. The pain felt good. What else felt good after that fight? Oh yes, the feeling of innards slipping and sliding down their throats, raw and bloody. Thus began the reign of the Terra twins, who only need raw flesh to survive. Just like most of the clansmen and women. They're always eaten by their young at some point. The Terra clan is made up of carnivores, after all. ...And cannibals. Amy gets a kick out of writing with these two. Momo can’t handle writing with them because of their insanity. Their insanity can prove to be quite fun at times though. Not all of my characters actually have such a brutish mentality though. Others are kindhearted and utterly useless unless played out as side characters. But their hearts are pure no less.



I guess this is all I can really think of typing up for this. Hopefully I’ll be able to think of something that doesn’t describe a story of some sorts next week. That would be nice. Or maybe I’ll continue to leave behind these stories. I mean, it would be nice for people to start to like reading stories that have some sort of flawed character. Unlike in the twilight series where everyone seems to be just made of perfection. Personally, I could rant about the twilight series, but I won’t. There are people who have made brilliant rants about Twilight, and nothing I write can compare to the intelligent things they have to say about the series. I’ll just leave it at this; it’s a badly written series which is poisoning the minds of readers young and old across the country.



Yeah.



Here I shall leave a sample of Sophie and Byron’s story. It’s the meeting between the girl and her puppet, told from Sophie’s view.



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Mama... Papa....?" The sound of what were supposed to be quiet footsteps rang through the halls. My parents had told me that their bedroom door was meant to remain shut at all costs many times before. I had always been curious as to what they were hiding in there. It wasn't suprising I was so curious the night it had sung open. The creaking had woken me from the little amount of sleep I had been getting in the past few weeks. My mother and Father were kind people, I suppose. Although, they were restricting. I was never allowed to go outside after lunch or before eleven in the morning. I had just an hour for sunlight every day. This was the law of my mother. Her other law she had set for me was that I had to stay in my room from seven pm to eleven am. We owned no source of entertainment. Books were all I had. No pictures. Just words. Even the covers had been torn off of them. My Father constantly was building me toy puppets, the ones that actually had strings. He could assemble one a day. He had to. Mother kept burning them every time she found me playing. I didn't know why. All I know was that she was protecting me from something. Just three days before my eighth birthay would I actually understand.



I slowly approached the room with caution, shivering. Something wasn't right, but I was so excited to see what kinds of fun stuff they kept in their room. I closed my eyes, inhaled, and reopened them to look around for the first time in the unlocked room. To my horror, my parents had been brutally slaughtered. My mother's lower half had been torn away, leaving just the pelvis and a pool of blood in its place as she leaned against the wall. Obviously she was dead. My father's death was more evident, since his head hung from the ceiling fan, and his limbs had been severed from his body. A silent scream caught in my throat as I dropped to my knees, retching on the floor below me. Only when the sound of cruching and tearing flesh did I look up. A black shadowy figure had placed itself in the middle of the floor, hunched over. It stood much taller than I had been back then, and it's hair was down to it's waist. Was it a man, or a woman? Upon turning to my noise, its deep crimson eyes gleamed in the lowlight. I could see his eyes, yet not his body? What was this madness? It then spoke to me, and I was sure it was a man. The voice boomed, and I could do nothing but scream. I screamed until my voice was gone. I screamed until he went away. That was the only way to get me to stop.



I raced across the floor, not bothering to watch where I stepped, since my vomit had made a bit of a puddle, and blood was everywhere. "Mama! P-papa!" I inhaled, breath and lower lip quivering. "Please tell me this is a bad dream. It is, right mama? Mama? ....MAMA!" I remember that I knew she would never come back no matter how much I cried and begged. I once again dropped to the floor, now staining my white nightgown. My crying stopped when I heard another voice. It was in the room, and caused me to freeze. What if it was that man from only a few moments ago, coming back since my screaming fit had ended? No, he probably would have killed me by now. But why was there more crying than my own in that room? It was a scary thought then, and it's hard to remember what I said next, but it ended with a little boy coming out from under the bed. He wore no clothes, and he seemed to be made of patches. His hair was like a deep red apple, if you wish to describe it in a kind way. He seemed to be about my age, and something was in his hand. I paid no attention to that. I was just glad back then that someone was alive. I went to approach him. He seemed almost to recoil. "Un... " I had squeaked. I began to pull back, planning on placing myself on another wall when the boy spoke. "Are you... her?" Her? I didn't understand what e meant until he asked if I was Sophie. I had no understanding, and all I could do was reply with a meek yes. The boy smiled at me, and came out fully. We were the same height when we sat. I wondered if it was the same for when we stood?



His hand reached out for me, and I remember my left eye developing the feeling of being burned. It hurt so much. I remember clawing at the left side of my face as the bright red markings I have today streaked and curled beneath my skin. The little boy was also in a large amount of pain, except, with his right eye. Not his left. When the pain died down, he handed me the letter, and I read over it, left eye closed. The only words written on the letter were:



Unstrung marionette.



I was confused. My head felt light. I passed out, the words of that shadowed man ringing through my head.



"Hello, I'm your new friend."